


Quite A Remarkable Resemblance

by DixieDale



Category: Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 15:04:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15075740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: They heard those words over and over again as they made their silent way to the pick-up point.  "We buried him."   "We buried him".    Around and around, the words never stopping, the vision of that coffin, that silent body being lowered into a lonely grave on foreign soil, not even having the peace of knowing he was buried back home.  Or at least, in Brandonshire, what passed for home now.When their plane is struck by lightning, the team ends up a long way from where their mission should have taken them.  Farther away than just miles should have accounted for, in a place where the dangers are ones they never could have anticipated or prepared for, with an outcome they could never have imagined.





	1. "Just Clutterin Up My Brain!"

**Author's Note:**

> During the War, obviously, early days, before there is any real connection to The Cottage.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't easy preparing for a mission; it took a lot of research, learning a hell of a lot of new information, memorizing the plan. Still, they had it down pat. Shame, really, that it was all for nothing.

It had started out like pretty much any other mission. Well, hell, didn't they all start off that way, same old line "should be simple, fly in, a quick drop, get the job done, no real activity in that area other than a few scattered detachments, easy exit. Be back in a few days." If they had a ten-spot for every time they'd heard THAT song and dance! Looking at that big map, hearing the story, even pessimist Casino had to admit it did look pretty much of a slam-dunk, though.

"So, we're headed to here?" Chief pointed at the map.

"Yes, Bucuresti, in Romania. We'll be met by a contact. Here," Garrison unfolded a different map, one just of Romania, "we drop here, get picked up by Milos in a farmer's wagon, travel along this route," tracing it out with his index finger. He turned at the sound of chewing, "Goniff, pay attention. To the MAP, not the sandwich!"

That got him a mumbled, "can do both, Warden. Fact is, can pay even BETTER attention when I've got something to nibble on!"

Actor snorted, taking a look at the sandwich Goniff had made by compiling two, no, from the looks of it maybe three of those in the big basket sent up from The Cottages. "If that is a 'nibble' . . ." 

Craig Garrison sighed, "guys, the map??"

Well, HE thought it was pretty much a slam-dunk, too, but things could always happen, things could always go wrong, and he wanted them to have the basics thoroughly engrained in their minds before they left.

Goniff had complained about the sheer volume of what they were supposed to learn, often enough, and repeated his litany now, that "aint so much as getting the stuff planted in there, Warden, it's getting it all erased after! Just like those file-cabinets Sergeant Major is always going on about. Only so much room in there, you know! Get too much stuffed in, never be able to find w'at you're looking for!"

Actor now smile one of those oh-so-superior smiles, and responded, "well, that's true for some of us, perhaps, Goniff. Others just might have greater capacity and better organization as well."

Casino dived in with, "well, you dump all that shit you've got in there about all those 'beautiful women' a yers, you could fit in even more. Those file folders with all those names, they got anything IN em, or just some made-up name on the cover?"

Garrison just threw up his hands, "alright, take a break, fifteen minutes. Grab a sandwich, some coffee. THEN we really get down to business, guys!" 

He shook his head and headed out to talk to Gil Rawlins about the guard rotation while they were gone; that new guy the Base had sent over after Perkins came down with appendicitis just wasn't a good match for the operation. Well, that had been pretty obvious when they'd found him in Garrison's room, quick abject subservient smile on his face as he explained, "just thought to have a look-see, so I can spot if one of those cons start making free with the Lieutenant's belongings, Sergeant Major."

Somehow that kind of initiative didn't endear itself to either Garrison or Rawlins, and the man was sullenly walking a post around the perimeter, and in just the kind of a mood to blame someone else for his current predicament. That had happened before, and to no one's advantage. "Maybe just an opportunist, Gil, but I want him gone. It's enough having to expect mischief from the ones I know can get up to it; I don't need any more moving parts," and Rawlins agreed. 

Next time round, they all actually paid attention, could have recited it all, name of the town they were headed to, name and description of contact, times, mission, every last bit of it. Shame, really, that they never got to use any of that! Like Goniff said later, "like I said, just cluttering up my brain! W'at if I NEED that space for something else??!" Garrison tried really hard not to listen to the various replies that comment received; they were barely printable anyway.


	2. "Just Check With The Local Chamber of Commerce"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A storm, a lightning strike - even Craig Garrison couldn't have predicted that monkey wrench being jammed into his lovely simple little plan. With the mission a bust, there's nothing for it but to head back home. Just one little problem . . .

The tension was palpable as the plane twisted and turned trying to make its way through the storm. Sudden crashes of thunder even drowned out the sounds of the rough engine, and Goniff was gulping and practicing his breathing exercises, without a heck of a lot of success as far as the uneasy Casino, sitting right along side, could tell.

"Slow down, Goniff, yer breathin too fast again; gonna make yerself pass out," Chief cautioned. That had happened on one rather momentous occasion, and frankly, this just wasn't a good time. They'd already been told to rig up their chutes, just in case, and no one wanted to deal with an unconscious Goniff if they had to ditch. A tandem jump was tricky enough when both parties were awake and doing their part; with the one in front out cold, at least one set of broken legs, if not worse, was a real possibility. Course, none of them really wanted to deal with the other possibility, either, him upchucking all over them, but they were kinda getting used to seeing the signs and dodging at the last minute.

The lightning strike that struck the tail section did damage, shocked the hell out of all of them, and probably took ten years off the already spooked pilot's life. "Alright, guys. I can maybe keep her up, but not with your weight. Bail, now!"

Garrison yelled back, "how close are we to the drop zone?" and the response wasn't quite what he'd hoped for.

"How the hell should I know??! Don't even know what country we're over right now, not after I dodged in so many directions to try to avoid that mother of a storm! Hell, could be over Stalingrad, or maybe over Bristol! Just jump, damn it! You can always check with the Chamber of Commerce when you get down there!" No, not quite what Garrison wanted to hear. As he motioned the men into position, he tried to picture that map again, then realized the pilot was right. There was just no sense in trying to guess, not now. 

Now he waited outside the ramshackle barn for Actor to return from his little sortee into the small village they'd spotted. They were lucky to have the conman with them, he knew; the tall Italian had traveled extensively, had a true wealth of knowledge tucked away - geography, politics, languages, and more. He'd have liked a cigarette, but didn't dare light one. Not only could someone spot the glow, this place, with its piles of straw and old wood, there was just too much waiting to catch fire from a stray spark. Just as he had that thought, he smelled the trickle of tobacco smoke and wheeled and marched back in.

"What did I tell you guys??! Put out those cigarettes! And be damned careful about it!" He got a few sullen glares, and really he did understand. That had been a hell of a trip, a hell of a jump, along with a rough landing, and they all needed something to calm their nerves. Just, it wasn't smart, not right now.

"Goniff, your stomach settled down any?" hoping against hope it had. He knew the little second-story man sure couldn't have anything left in it, not after the number of times he'd emptied it recently. The green-tinged face, those woebegone eyes, that hard 'gulp' was his answer, and he sighed again, and made his way back outside.

Chief came up behind him quietly, "still no sign of Actor, huh," and Garrison shook his head. They waited together for another twenty minutes before Chief jerked his head to the right.

"There, coming in now," and there was more than a little relief in his voice. They all hated it when one of them had to go off on their own; it was necessary more often than not, but still . . .

Garrison listened to the report and swore under his breath, "you're sure??!" though he knew Actor wouldn't have even uttered those words if he hadn't been, quite, quite sure.

"Of course, Craig. Perhaps we ought not to mention this to . . ."

A harsh challenging voice came from behind, "mention what, Beautiful?" and Actor and Garrison just gave a resigned look at each other, before moving back in to gather the men around. Chief stayed outside to guard, but had part of his attention on the little discussion going on inside; his hearing was good enough, he didn't miss much, though he might have preferred to.

It hadn't been too bad at first, as Actor had tried to avoid that one word, one name, had concentrated elsewhere.

"Sighisoara. So, okay. We're near this Sighisoara instead of that Bucuresti place. So, how far away, how far we gotta travel?" Somehow neither he or Goniff were happy with that look on Garrison's face; they sure as hell weren't happy when the Warden picked up a stick and in the dust covering the barn floor drew - of course! - a map.

Goniff let out a squawk. "Ruddy 'ell, Warden! Just 'ow far IS that??!"

The answer pleased no one, evident in Casino's "hundred and fifty miles! Just how in hell are we supposed to get there? Thought there was a time limit on this little gig!"

Garrison had to admit to the truth of all that, as well as what was obvious to him. "We aren't going to get there in time; the mission's scrubbed. We'd never get there before they move the target. Now, we focus on getting back home."

Goniff heaved a sigh of relief, certainly better than all the other heaving he'd been doing recently. "Bout time you started talking sense, Warden! 'Ow we gonna get there. Gotta tell you, aint sure I can 'andle another plane ride right now."

Actor was the one to break it to him, "you won't have to worry about that for awhile, Goniff. We are a long way from any planes, I should think. Or boats either, for that matter. We will be walking for awhile, I imagine, unless we can find some other means of transportation." 

He had really hoped the question wouldn't be asked; both he and Garrison had been very careful not to mention countries, borders, anything of the nature. They both had thought they had dodged that bullet when Chief entered the conversation from the doorway.

"So, Transylvania. This that same place they talk about in all those movies with the vampires and werewolves and bats and things like that?"

And that's when it hit the fan.


	3. Relax, It's Just Another Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow the knowledge that they've managed to find themselves in Transylvania displeases the guys. Go figure! Actually, Garrison would have prefered to keep that little tidbit just between Actor and himself. Now, between Actor's overly-detailed 'Legends of the Carpathians 101' lecture, and Goniff's obvious intentions to do a little 'shopping', he could feel things start to get complicated.

No, Goniff and Casino were not happy, loudly, vociferously, adamantly not happy. Of course, what they expected Garrison to do about their current location, they didn't mention, though they did have a few choice words otherwise. 

"Look, guys. We're here, there's not a hell of a lot I can do about that except figure a way to get us OUT of here. And stop dwelling on all of that movie nonsense. Transylvania is just another place, just like Romania would have been, no different."

Garrison tried not to notice, or at least acknowledge the solidly dubious looks he was getting from everyone. The rest he was expecting that kind of a reaction from, of course; what had him really worried was the look on Actor's face. Somehow, that came out of left-field. Surely the highly intelligent, well-traveled con man didn't believe any of that nonsense.

He listened now as Actor ran through the summary of what he knew about this area.

"The locals speak a variety of languages and dialects, depending on which village they are closest to; they are highly insular," clarifying for the others when he saw the familiar look of 'what the hell did he just say?' on more than one face. "They do not take to strangers; they can be quite, well, fervent in that, quite willing to take up guns, knives, pitchforks in making their position quite clear. Since I can speak many of the dialects, please leave any conversation to me. We will all be much safer that way. If the Lieutenant and I have to converse, we will do so softly, and in Italian; I believe that would be safer than in German, certainly more than in English. Also, the area outside the villages and towns, areas we will have to pass through, have their own dangers. There are wolves, surely, along with bears, and wild boar, deer which can be quite dangerous in their own right, and lynx - large predatory cats."

"You want us to leave the 'conversations' with those up to you too, Beautiful?" came from Casino, not really believing any of that wild animal shit. Actor just sighed, turning it back over to Garrison.

"Actually, I think we should just try to avoid any conversations with the wildlife, if possible, Casino," Garrison dryly told the safecracker.

Goniff was looking around into the shadowy corners of the barn more nervously than before, "any of them likely to come in 'ere, Actor?"

"I rather doubt that, Goniff; unless they are very hungry, they would probably avoid places of habitation," though there was more than a trace of nervousness in the taller man's face as well. War changed the habits of many creatures, not just humans.

"Yeah, well, what about the rest of that stuff? The vampires and werewolves and blood-suckin bats? What are we s'possed to do about all a that?"

"Ei, Casino! Come on, you 'eard the Warden! Aint real, none a that," and now the pickpocket was turning green again and his fingers were starting to fidget.

"Yes, well, that is most likely true, Goniff; however, there are certainly legends."

Garrison interjected quickly, "which we don't need to hear, Actor," only to have his words overridden with a "yes, but the locals DO believe, Craig, and speaking otherwise would not be particularly wise. The men DO need to know the basics, just to be aware of perhaps what not to do to arouse undue attention."

And Garrison groaned inwardly, but sat back to hear a detailed lecture regarding things he really did NOT want to be hearing about, obviously Actor's version of 'Carpathian Legends 101'. He figured they'd all wake him up with yelling nightmares for at least a week. He refused to admit he might have a few himself. Before their little unexpected sidetrip was over, he would have been happy to exchange those nightmares for the ones he really did have.

It had been decided to avoid the locals as much as possible, since only Actor would likely be able to communicate anyway. Still, some interaction was necessary, and for the first two days, there were no real issues, lots of nods, exchange of some fast odd sounding sentences. Some shyness, perhaps, but certainly no frowns or signs of displeasure. Of course, no one was cast into transports of joy, either, at the sight of them; this was a hard time in a part of the world where living had never been particularly easy. The people were going to be cautious of strangers. Still, all and all, for a mission that had gotten totally screwed up, it was going better than expected.

That changed about forty miles outside of Malancrav. Actor had waxed almost lyrical over the church there in Malancrav, the 'Gothic frescoes' that apparently were 'absolutely magnificent'. Since he didn't bother to stop in his pontificating to explain what a 'fresco' was or much else, the guys had started just nodding, or sometimes rolling their eyes along with an elaborate shrug of their shoulders. Maybe if they ever GOT there, and if the Warden decided sightseeing was on their agenda, it would all make sense. Somehow, they kinda doubted that was what the officer had in mind, though.

Still, Goniff did let his mind wander to maybe doing a little shopping. "Ei, Actor. W'at else they got in that Malancrav place, anything interesting?"

Garrison cleared his throat sharply, catching Actor's attention. Remembering just who he was talking to, those eager fingers, he managed to avoid a rhapsody of words on the church ornaments and vessels and candlesticks and that lovely little museum he remembered with the truly delightful collection of enamel-work, anything else that might attract their magpie of a pickpocket.

"Mostly the frescoes and the stained glass and the large paintings, Goniff, not much else worth noticing," he managed to lie convincingly. That got him a heartfelt nod of appreciation from Garrison, a disappointed sniff from the small Cockney and a grin from Casino. Even Chief managed to look slightly amused.

This little village, quite small compared to the more populous Malancrav, it too had a church, though Actor was not expecting much in the way of frescoes, or anything else. He was wrong, so very, very wrong.


	4. I Would Suggest We Get The Hell Outta Dodge!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected encounter in a small village causes a variety of reactions from the locals - fear, anticipation, awe, subservient respect, resentment, and irritation, and a heck of a lot of giggles. GIGGLES???

Actor was talking again; well, once he started on a subject, it WAS hard to get him to shut up. "The church is circa 11th century, I would think."

Goniff was squinting as if he was trying to figure that out, and apparently just gave up. "Actor, you been through 'ere before?" It seemed a reasonable question, them knowing how much he'd traveled.

"No, I believe not; I took a diffferent route to Malancrav during my journey."

"Then why do they 'ave your picture everywhere? Ruddy awful clothes too!"

The others hadn't been 'shopping' for possible portables like Goniff had, so they'd missed it. He was right, though, now that they started paying attention to things like that. The church's stained glass windows allowed Actor's aristocratic face and frame to look out over the village much as a lord might look out over his holdings. In the various small windows of the houses lining the streets, small paintings, icons really, showed that same face and form. Garrison was starting to get an uneasy feeling; Actor was just confused. 

Neither feeling was diminished by the startled looks on the faces of the people in the streets. First apprehensive, and that was understandable; the sight of five strangers in their small village was bound to have that effect. But the other? A combination of awe, fear, wariness, all mixed with a growing anticipation and eagerness. The voices started as they went past, murmurs growing to something louder.

Garrison said in a very low voice, "Actor? What are they saying?"

And Actor's voice was truly puzzled when he replied, "I know what they are saying, but it makes little sense. Some are saying, "he has returned!", others are questioning what is expected of them. There is talk of a promise, a ritual. None of it makes sense to me, Craig. I would suggest . . . ". 

They never knew what he was going to say, though if it had been "I would suggest we get the hell outta Dodge," the others would probably have agreed with the sentiment wholeheartedly. Instead, a trio of men scurried up to them, bowing repeatedly, putting Goniff in mind of the attendants at the Chinese laundry he'd used so often up in London (sometimes even for getting laundry done!). These, these were even worse, since they not only bowed, but insisted on kissing Actor's hand, each of them. Garrison noted they made no such attempt with him or the others.

They were gathered in by the three men, and Actor whispered an aside that, "it might be best to go with them for now, Craig. I hardly see how we can avoid it without creating a scene. We do not wish to harm anyone, after all."

They weren't happy about it, but it seemed he was right. Not only those three, but several others were following along behind. Garrison wasn't the only one who watched carefully, not the only one who noted the curtains being twitched aside in windows, a quick half-glimpse of a face, then the curtain dropped back into place. One small child darted out after a loose puppy, skidded to a stunned halt in front of the group, jaw dropping, eyes wide at the sight of Actor, before he was scolded and sent hastening for a small house along the side of the street. Goniff took another puzzled look at their con man, {"nope, same old Mr. Snooty, nothing to stare at."} and shrugged at what the fuss was about. 

By the time they reached the end of the street, a carriage had arrived, old but in excellent condition, complete with four jet black horses in black harness, tall black plumes adorning the headpieces.

"Blimey!"

"Shut up, ya damn fool," a furious Casino hissed at him. He was pretty sure 'blimey!' wasn't Transylvanian, or Hungarian, or whatever the heck they spoke around here! Goniff just rolled his eyes, {"like that's the strangest thing that's 'appened so far!"}.

At the urging of the three men, Actor was encouraged to get inside, but when the others would have followed suit, the reaction was fast and furious. With mighty frowns and waves of their hands, it was made apparent to them that that would NOT be allowed.

A quick aside in Italian, a language they thought would cause perhaps the least animosity, he told Garrison, "I am most sorry, Craig, but they say you and the others must follow along on foot. I've told them I do not want to be parted from you; they accept that you are my retinue, but they will not allow you into the coach. I have asked that they proceed slowly; that you are my valued servants and I require you close and in a proper condition to carry out my wishes."

So the carriage containing one solitary dignified figure, the three townsmen joining the coachman on top, and the already footsore members of the team followed behind. A quick order from Garrison made sure they didn't talk, but from the snarls and other little sounds he heard, he figured they were THINKING plenty. Well, so was Actor, even though he had the luxury of sitting down while doing so. He wasn't sure if all he'd heard, what he was beginning to suspect would work to their advantage or not; only time would tell.

The coachman had seemed to take Actor's request seriously, and the horses were kept at a slow even pace, enough the trailing men didn't get far behind. That was good and bad, of course. It meant they never lost sight of the coach, could spot any untoward activity there. It also meant they caught all the dust from the horses' hooves and the wheels, along with having to dodge the occasional 'deposit' left by one of the cow-hocked horses. By the time the coach pulled to a stop outside the imposing structure at the top of the rise, they were covered in dust and Casino was grumbling and wiping the side of his shoe on the grassy verge. Actor was helped down from the coach and taken in the front way, up some broad stone steps. The others, well, they were taken in a low door in the side. 

Luckily for their peace of mind, they ended up in the same place, a wide guest suite, though it was made clear they would sleep in the small anteroom, on the rolled up pallets stacked against the wall. Goniff took a quick look, "guess we can fit if we don't twitch. Blimey, Actor! Think we would fit better all sharing that bed with you! Could fit us all easy enough!"

Well, that was probably almost true, though a slight exageration. That bed was absolutely huge, a four-postered canopy with top side drapes of a royal purple so deep as to appear black where the shadows hit. The heavy coverlet was of a deep purple brocade, and there was a fur throw spread out across it. Chief ran his hand over that, gently, as if it were a living creature, "bear?"

Actor took a closer look, "yes. And that one," nodding to another fur draped over the rear of a high-backed chair sitting close to the fire, "I believe is mountain lynx."

Goniff approached the chair carefully, "you sure it's dead, Chiefy? It's lookin at me!"

Chief gave a quick twitch of a smile, "yeah, it's dead, Goniff. Those eyes are carved stone, I think."

Actor concealed a smile as he glanced a conspiratorial look over at Garrison. He had no intention of telling the little thief that he rather thought those 'carved stones' to be uncut rubies; that just wouldn't have helped the situation. Goniff very carefully reached out and tilted that head with the fierce scowl on its face toward him, drawing the snarled lips back to expose those long wickedly sharp teeth. They all waited for it, and it came, a long drawn out, "Blimey!"

A tap at the door brought hot water and towels, for Actor, of course, along with a fine suit of clothing that fit him as if it had been tailored for him. A small tray held a broad gold ring set with a square cut ruby, which the bowing black-clad man insisted Actor wear along with the clothes. Actor condescended to do so, more to keep Goniff's eager patty-paws off it than from any desire to wear the ring; actually, that made him more than a little uncomfortable; it seemed to give off a mild electric tingle against his skin. Still, it fit quite well, and, like the suit of clothes, looked as if belonged there.

Actor left with the man, "for dinner. He says you will eat with the other servants, but I have requested food be brought to you here, as you do not speak the language. Hopefully he will comply; it would be better if you do not mix with the others."

Garrison agreed, but that was not to be. Another man, this one in clothes that seemed to denote a much lower rank came to collect them. He noted wryly that there was none of the bowing and scraping and humble smiles as had been evident with Actor. This was more of a brusque motion of the hands, and a quick spurt of some language that even Garrison couldn't understand. He thought it was probably the local version of, "you want to eat, come along and don't dally. I don't see why we have to feed you anyway!" from the deep glower that accompanied the words.

The servants' dining table was made of wooden planks, but they all admitted the food was palatable if plain; even Goniff got his fill. The men servants kept their distance, didn't talk except to each other, but made their opinion of the newcomers quite clear by the sullen looks and glares. The females, well, that was a different story.

The older woman, the cook, seemed genuinely pleased with their reaction to the meal, even more flattered by Goniff's up-reached bowl and eager smile and those oh-so-innocent blue eyes. Garrison concealed a smile of his own, thinking it reminded him of a scene from Oliver Twist. Those hazy blue eyes seemed to have something, some power Garrison had never figured out, but they could make him smile when he least expected it.

The younger women, and there were a few, they looked, taking the mens' measure, and smiles started to break out - some shy, some bold - along with a few giggles held back by a concealing hand over the mouth. Garrison had to clear his throat sharply and shake his head to keep Casino and Goniff from responding as much as they might have liked; none of that had seemed to have improved their status with the men servants. He decided he'd have a good long talk with them after they got back to their room.

It looked like that was going to have to wait, though, because the man who'd come to get them indicated, again with harsh words and gestures, that they were to join the other men in hauling in wood, cleaning stables, and other chores. It was with some difficulty that Garrison made sure he and his three men stayed together; too much could happen if they split up, especially with none of them speaking any common language; he didn't want any 'knowing your place' lessons being delivered or responded to. He wasn't sure he was succeeding, was getting seriously concerned, when the old woman, the cook, snapped a wooden spoon over the head of the man giving the orders, giving him the rough side of her tongue at the same time, and with a growl and a sulky look Garrison and the guys were directed along to the wood-gathering group.

Casino whispered, "think she's his mother? Mine used to smack me just like that when I got on her wrong side," and Goniff nodded, "yeah. With me, it was 'er iron thimble, smack! Little round bruised spots, it left!"

It took a long time, even with all of them working together, but wood was brought in for the kitchen boxes, and for each of the rooms upstairs and down. 

"Well, at least they let us wash up," Chief observed pragmatically, drying himself off with the rough towel he'd been given.

"Coo, 'urry up, Chiefy! Got bark dust and who knows what all down my back! Itchin like crazy!"

"Alright, it's all yours," Chief said agreeably, stepping back from the deep basin placed in the corner of the anteroom, reaching for his clothes. There had only been two basins of water, cold, not hot like had been brought for Actor, and they'd had to fetch the buckets themselves, but even that had been a welcome relief. Garrison could sympathize; he wasn't sure it would take less than an hour's soaking to get clean again, and that wasn't on the agenda, but this would help, help a lot. He moved back from the second basin, reaching for his own clothes, let Casino take his turn at the water. The towel was scratchy and old, but that helped some with the itching too, he thought philosophically.

They'd agreed, washing up came first, then if the water wasn't so dirty as to do no good, then they'd give their grimy sweaty hair a wash. Casino had expressed an opinion of what the harsh soap would do in that regard, and that got him a roll of the eyes from everyone. He'd taken his share of teasing about being vain in that direction; not as vain as Actor, but still more than the others thought appropriate. Goniff had argued that he and Garrison should get first crack at the hair-washing, since "ours is lighter, shows the dirt more". No one seemed to have an opinion as to the logic of that, but Chief and Casino shrugged and motioned the two blonds to go on. Goniff came out of the bowl like a wet dog, shaking in every direction, "coo, that felt good!" and Garrison had to agree, though he hadn't thought it necessary to shower the whole room with water after his own dunking. Somehow, with food in their stomachs, their bodies appreciably cleaner, they just seemed more ready to face what lay ahead.  


Now, they just waited for Actor to return to the room. Garrison, well, all of them would have liked to stretch out on that big bed, and yes, there would have been room, though they would have been shoulder to shoulder, but the thought of that superior man servant coming back and catching them proved a sufficent deterrent. So they sprawled on the floor, backs up against the wall, wherever and however they liked, prepared to spring to their feet if that door started to open. They all had fallen into either sleep or at least a light drowse depending on the individual's ability to sleep in odd conditions before that happened.

When it did, it wasn't Actor, though; it was a giggling maid with a big basket of folded clothing, replacements for their own grimy ones. She motioned her instructions and they nodded. They disappeared one by one, into that little anteroom, to reappear with their dirty clothes bundled and wearing the clean ones. The giggles didn't stop, and somehow seemed more than could just come from one maid, no matter how pretty. She disappeared with the basket, and they settled back down to wait. 

Garrison glanced at the clock on the wall - just how long did a meal take around here anyway? Him not knowing about the linen closet on the other side of the anteroom, that ever so handy knothole in the lower left corner? Just a minor detail, though the pretty blonde twins did have quite a story to tell the other female servants back in the kitchen. The giggles just got louder and louder.


	5. Quite An Amazing Resemblance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Actor meets, if not their host, then one representing their host. If the pictures in the gallery are accurate, there appears to be an uncanny resemblance between the tall Italian and the aristocratic Racelescu family. Anthony Masters, personal assistant and secretary to the absent Count Racelescu is charming, informative, and if Actor is any judge, just as skilled a conman as Actor himself.

Actor had been escorted down to a dining room, large table set with only two place settings, one at the head, one three or four places down on his right. He had headed to the one on the side, only to be apologetically corrected by a soft 'ahem' from the black coated man who had brought him this far. He raised his brows in question, but proceeded to make his way to the head of the table, the chair somehow being drawn out and slid back in at just the right moments. Once he was in place, another man entered and bowed politely, and seated himself at the side place. Actor was shocked, although he of course did not lower himself so far as to show it, when he was addressed in impeccable English.

"My apologies for not being present for your arrival, sir; I was away and only when I returned did I receive word of your presence. I am Anthony Masters, secretary and personal assistant to Count Radu Racelascu, your host. It is most unfortunate that the Count is away on an extended business trip; he would have been delighted to greet you, of course. Might I be so bold as to ask which member of the family you are? He rarely discusses the family, you know, not in any detail. I know you could not be Gheorghe; he is hardly twenty yet. And Vasile, well, that unfortunate accident of course," motioning with one hand along his jawline.

Actor thought furiously, but decided there was just no reasonable way he was going to pull off an impersonation with absolutely NO information. So he smiled genially, "I must admit that I am here under rather false pretenses. Well, not that precisely, it was not my intent certainly. The men from the village really gave me and my men not much choice in the matter. I am Alexandru Mancelli; while I believe my family had certain roots in this part of the world, as evidenced by my birthname, I, myself, was born in Rome and currently reside in Venice."

Somehow, he got the feeling nothing about that denial was either of a great surprise, or even of great interest to the dignified man sitting at the table with him. 

"Ah, well, it is easy to see how such a mistake could happen, of course," Anthony replied with an easy smile. "You could easily be mistaken for the Count himself, you know."

Actor raised his brows, "there is that much similarity?"

"Oh, yes. The Count is, well, what can I say. There is a certain 'agelessness' about him, that merely adds to his aristocratic demeanor. As well as the family nose, of course. After we dine, I would be glad to show you to the gallery, and you might judge for yourself."

They dined in some splendor; Actor was sure what he was being served was far superior than what the others were eating, and felt a brief twinge at that. Still, it was quite pleasant, and Anthony Masters a skilled raconteur, so the evening passed quickly. He was astonished when he heard the clock chime eleven times. 

Anthony folded his napkin, sat his brandy glass aside, and asked, "would you care to join me, Alexandru?" and Actor walked alongside the pleasant man to a long room filled with paintings.

"Many are ones which have been collected over the years, of course. You may wander and enjoy them as you wish during your stay; some are quite exquisite. However, here, along this wall, this is what I wanted to show you."

And Actor understood now - picture after picture, some of the men bearing a slight resemblance to him, some a much greater one. Three, however, it was as if he had sat for the portraits himself, though the costumes, if accurate, showed the paintings had been done at much different times. The last one on the wall showed a man in modern dress, well, in that rather ambiguous menswear that seemed ageless itself; it could have been painted anytime in the past sixty years or so, maybe longer depending on how au courant with the changes of fashion the subject might have been.

"Is this the present Count?" thinking the man in the portrait looked about Actor's age.

"Oh, no, his father. That was painted many years ago, when the Count was still little more than a boy. For some reason, he has not decided on the appropriate artist to paint his own portrait, though he will, of course. All of them have done so."

Anthony expounded into a great deal of the family history, in general, of course, including the unfortunate death of the previous Count at the hands, or rather, the tusks of a wild boar.

"The present Count assumed the title at the early age of sixteen. He is rather a recluse, but then, many of them were. There are few anywhere around to provide the appropriate companionship, of course, and he was even denied the opportunity his father had intended, that he go to study abroad. Once the Count had to assume the position and the title, well, it would hardly have done to have him mixing with others of a lesser station, and he was needed here. He had much to learn; it was expected that he inherit, of course, but at a much more advanced age, when he was fully educated and prepared to step into his father's shoes. I believe my presence here was intended to make up for that somewhat," and the smile was disarming and genuine and everything it should have been.

Actor didn't believe it for one moment; he had that very same smile in his repertoire, just as useful, just as sincere, just as false.


	6. He's Got That Look In His Eyes Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goniff looked over at Garrison, groaned, "Ruddy 'ell, 'ere we go again!"

Actor briefed Garrison and the men when he got back to the room just before the big clock struck Midnight. Afterwards, knowing they all needed rest, they made their way to their bed, or in the case of everyone except Actor, to their pallets. It was obvious that anteroom was NOT going to provide room for them to sleep in any sort of comfort, not for four of them. So Actor decided he required his 'personal assistant' close by, as well as his 'personal guard'. Garrison and Chief dragged in two of the pallets and settled down while Casino and Goniff made their own places in the anteroom. By the time the clock struck one, the two rooms held only silence, well, along with assorted snores, mutterings, murmurs, and the other various night noises associated with their usual sleep patterns. They were exhausted, they slept heavily, although Garrison and Chief did take turns on guard, first Garrison, then Chief.

The sounds that woke Garrison weren't the usual moans and groans and bellyaching that usually accompanied morning. He blinked rapidly and shook his head, looking over at Chief with the question in his eyes.

Chief's mouth gave just a little twitch, "they showed up right after I came on guard at four. Weren't too noisy til just now."

Actor was sitting up now, listening too. He shook his head, "even here? How DO they manage?" He glanced at the clock - eight o'clock now. Garrison remembered those little smiles and coy looks and giggles at the kitchen table last night; yes, those giggles pretty well matched what he was hearing from the anteroom. He stood up, stretched and walked over to the door.

"Ah, Craig, are you very sure you want to open that door? I can hear three distinct female voices, perhaps four."

Chief now broke into a reluctant grin, "it's four - the two blondes that looked like twins, a little brunette and the one redhead. Guess one for each of us, but you and me weren't in there. Didn't seem to matter much; Casino and Goniff look to be managing all right, took up the slack, didn't call asking for any help, anyway."

Garrison snorted, "oh, I bet they managed just fine! Alright, figure out how to get rid of the ladies and get the guys up and ready to talk. We've got to get more information, figure out what's next."

Chief got to the door, glanced through the crack he'd found earlier, and backed away, "uh, might need to wait awhile on that, Warden. The guys are already 'up' and looks like they've all already figured out 'what's next'."

Actor just looked slightly disgruntled, "it appears there are some disadvantages to being an aristocrat after all, Craig; it appears they felt they wouldn't be as welcome here, or maybe they just prefer a more common touch. A pity, actually." 

Garrison just rolled his eyes, and tried to figure out the next stages of their exit. If his eyes kept finding their way back to that door, well, it was just that those giggles were distracting, that's all. He wasn't really trying to figure out who ended up with whom, nah!

***

According to plan, Goniff managed to get lost a couple of times, managed to figure out the layout of the place at the same time. He even managed to get his fingers on a few little trinkets at the same time; while Garrison had spotted three of them and sternly demanded they be placed on the side table, the little pickpocket had just shrugged with indifference; after all spotting those three, that still left those last two and those were the best of the lot anyway. He used a damp finger on the table to explain what he'd found, which entrances and exits had guards, which hallways seemed to be more heavily traveled. 

Casino had the excuse of trying to find Goniff, picked up some stray bits of conversation between Anthony Masters and another man in German that he actually understood. He also spotted what he thought were a couple of 'extra doors' in the chapel that was located on the lower level.

Actor had taken breakfast in his room, then spent time in the gallery, then in the abundant library. A small volume purporting to be a history of the Racelascu family proved of interest, and he slipped it into his pocket to take back to his room.

For luncheon he was taken to the same room as before, and joined by Anthony Masters. It was a pleasant meal, with pleasant conversation saying very little. He did manage to inquire about any German involvement in the area, "since we will be traveling on for quite some way. It is always best to have the most current and accurate information possible."

He garnered some snippets of information, in exchange for giving up some in return, possibly both containing similar amounts of truth.

"It is a family tradition, one I find a little tiresome, actually. Walking tours." He shook his head, conveying a rueful combination of annoyance and resigned amusement. "The patriarch of the family, in this case my grandfather, sends the males in the direct line out on walking tours on the anniversary of the first such one undertaken by one of our ancestors, obviously a robust type who enjoyed exertion and open air. At least it is not EVERY year, only every five, but still, it is quite a tedious business. Always the same number of servants as our ancestor took, as well, and an equally mismatched group! It appears our ancestor rather collected his as he went along, from various rather dubious sources; we, on the other hand, have ours presented to us at our departure, along with our general itinerary. I am most relieved that this is my last one," he sighed.

Masters looked intrigued, "your last one?"

"Yes, our ancestor was bitten by an asp in Egypt and perished before the age of forty; once we reach the age he was when he died, we are freed from the obligation. So, all in all, I suppose it isn't SO terribly bad, averages out about four or five or so of the journeys for each of us. There have even been a few who have claimed to have enjoyed the experience. I, frankly, am not one of them."

Masters asked, ever so casually "and how did he choose this area, Malencrav in particular? It seems quite a coincidence, what with the resemblance."

"Oh, quite the coincidence, I assure you. My grandfather throws a dart at a map pinned to the wall. Perhaps he aims for a particular spot or not, but I don't know that that really matters as far as the results go. Old man is blind as a bat, has been for years now, though we're not supposed to notice, of course. Last time, I ended up in Scotland; he says his intention was Portugal, had the maps ready and everything; quite a scramble to come up with more appropriate ones. Have you ever been to Scotland? Interesting, of course, but the food! And I could barely understand a word anyone said. And the wild stories the locals would tell, with a straight face, mind you, and expect you to swallow it whole. You would think every ghost, goblin, witch and general monster had chosen the country to settle in. And there was one spot, a lake, well they call them 'lochs', called Loch Ness. The stories from that area, well . . ."He regaled an amused Masters with stories, and Masters returned the favor with a few local legends.

"Yes, it's quite extraordinary what the common types can make themselves believe, isn't it?" and they shared an congenial, suitably aristocratic laugh. Actor never thought that little 'Walking Tour of Scotland in the Springtime' he and the team had inadvertently undertaken would have proved so helpful.

He got back to his room to find it empty, and whiled away the time with reading that little history he'd found, and most interesting and informative he found it. When the others came dragging back in in the late afternoon, hot, grimy and sweaty, to see him lounging so elegantly, glass of wine on the small table beside him, well, there were words spoken.

"You could hardly expect me to join you on, ah, what was it, wood gathering? Stable cleaning? I am hardly attired for that sort of thing," he taunted them, getting a few snarls and an outright threat from Casino.

"Alright knock it off. What have we learned?"

"According to our host, there is a German outpost to the south, about here," pointing it out on the hastily sketched map he pulled from his pocket. "They are supposedly testing some new gun, all strictly hush-hush."

He saw the gleam come into Garrison's green eyes, and glanced over at the others. They had seen it too, and Goniff muttered under his breath, "ruddy 'ell, 'ere we go again! Can't just get the ruddy 'ell outta 'ere, get 'ome; no, now we gotta . . ." and his words trailed off.

Garrison was staring off into space, "just how do we get away to get it done, though; they keep sticking us on work details, we have our meals in the servants hall; they pretty well keep tabs on us. And I'm not ready to leave here yet; there's something going on, and I want to get to the bottom of it before we do. That means I need a way to get me and at least part of the guys out and free to do the job, keep you here to distract our host, Actor."

Actor frowned, considering the matter. "I believe it would not be out of character for me to send my 'servants' to scout ahead on the route we intend to take on the next part of my little 'walking tour'," filling them in on the story he'd given to Masters. "I've made sure he understands I do NOT enjoy the process and would really prefer to avoid any unpleasant or uncomfortable moments. How long do you wish me to say you will be gone?" They talked it over, it seemed to mesh, and it was set up for Actor to slide all that information to Masters at the dinner table.

It went surprisingly well, Masters even suggesting the men stop by the kitchen to get food to take with them. The evening passed much as before, and the night and the wee hours of the morning, though Chief informed Garrison it was the blonde twins again, but the redhead obviously had business elsewhere, because there was the same brunette and another with coal black hair doing the giggling now.

Somehow Chief wasn't quite as amused this morning, the looks he was sending in that direction containing more than a little envy. Well, Actor didn't indulge in servant girls, as he'd frequently informed them, though he looked a little wistful as well, and as for Garrison, he just refused to let his mind dwell on what had happened, was still happening in that little room next door. 

The girls were sent on their way with a smile, a slap on their rounded bottoms and a few coins in their pockets, the men stopped by the kitchen and picked up a packet of food from the smiling cook who patted Goniff's cheeks and said a few fond words, none of which anyone understood, but the attitude was clear and grandmotherly, probably something on the order of 'go and play, be good boys, and don't get too dirty.'


	7. A Lonely Grave in a Foreign Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How could something turn so wrong so fast? Now, each of them bears the memory of that grave, that cross with the carved name. This wasn't the way they wanted it to be, a lonely grave in a foreign land. At least they should have been able to take him home, at least to Brandonshire, what counted as their home for right now. He deserved that.

Garrison was tired but pleased with the success of the impromptu mission. The guys were tired and relieved that Garrison seemed to have been satisfied with just destroying the prototype and the plans for the new long-range gun and leaving the Germans in confusion and disarray. After all, as Goniff put it, "aint like 'im to be satisfied with just that little bit of action, you know. Looks like we lucked out!" 

They kept that opinion until they returned to the castle, where they were greeted with the shocking news that Actor, 'Alexandru Mancelli', had gone for a walk on the grounds, accompanied by the gamekeeper, and met with a most dreadful fate; a wild boar, just as the previous Count had encountered.

"These mountains, they are known for such, you know. Wild boars, wolves, bears and many other dangeous creatures."

A demand to see the body met with solemn headshakes, "this was soon after you left, and the dead are not left unburied past the next noonday sun. You must understand, what a boar does to a man's body, it is a terrible thing. They gore with their tucks, one objective being to disembowel their victim; their hooves are like steel razors and they continue to gore and trample til their bloodlust is satisfied. That our gamekeeper survived, that is a miracle and happened only because others heard the sounds and came with guns. As it is, he is injured beyond words." That was all accompanied by a sad shrug.

"We did what we could for him. We buried him in the family plot. We said the appropriate words. We will lay down flowers when we ornament all the graves in the spring. We did all we could."

A demand to speak to the gamekeeper who had survived, but had been terribly slashed and damaged, was agreed to, certainly, but from that bandaged and bloodstained man they got the same story, in pain filled whispers, although Masters had had to translate, of course. They were shown the grave, the cross with the name carved into it. They were urged to bear the news to the family, assure them the grave would be cared for as if it contained one of their own. And really, what else was there for them to do? They left, the elderly cook in the kitchen once again giving them a packet of food, though this time with no smiles, or pats to their cheeks, not even really looking at them directly.


	8. Don't Worry, You Can Trust Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, over a very strong drink, Garrison would repeat those words to himself, "don't worry, you can trust me," and nod reluctantly. Well, he had, at least at that particular time, in that particular set of circumstances. But he didn't think he or any of the others would be wanting to go back anytime soon, even if 'Mother' DID like them.

"We did what we could. We buried him in the family plot. We said the appropriate words. We will lay down flowers when we ornament all of the graves in the spring. We did all we could."

They heard those words over and over again as they made their silent way toward the town twenty miles away where Garrison thought they could make contact with the Underground, find an exit, a way to get back home. 

"We buried him." "We buried him".

Around and around, the words never stopping, the vision of a coffin, that silent body, mangled perhaps beyond recognition, being lowered into a lonely grave on foreign soil, not even having the peace of knowing he was buried back home. Or at least, in Brandonshire, what passed for home now.

Casino spoke up, "wish we coulda brought him with us. He woulda liked that, I think."

Goniff muttered back, his voice a little more raspy than usual, "never said where 'e really called 'ome; think you're right, Casino. Think 'e'd 'ave liked being tucked away there in Brandonshire. We coulda visited 'im, told 'im about the missions and everything else." His words were followed by a rather forlorn little sniff. 

"Guys, I know, but we don't have a way to take him back with us, not now. We'll come back, after the war. We'll get it done right." Garrison knew that was a promise none of them might live to keep, but it was one he WOULD keep if there was any way possible. Right now, they were still a good hike from the nearest exit point.

Chief had remained quiet. Well, he was never talkative, but somehow, leaving Actor behind in that odd little town, leaving him for who knows how long before they could get him back to Brandonshire, it seems he would have had SOME words. Goniff and Casino exchanged a puzzled glance. 

When the words came, it was like a bolt of lightning went through all of them. A voice, odd as if powered with something beyond the young Indian's own self. "Said they buried him. Said they said prayers. Said they'd put down flowers." There was a long electric pause. "Said lots of stuff. Never said he was dead, though. Seems that's something they'd say, if it were so. Warden, got a feeling . . ."

Goniff swallowed loudly, "the cook, she didn't even look at me when we left; always real friendly, she was, even from the first. Now . . ."

Casino just stood looking from one to the other of them, "what? You think they got him hid up there for some reason? Why? What for?"

And Garrison perched on a convenient rock to do some thinking about what Actor had told them, all those little snippets of information, the history, the portraits and all else.

"Guys, it's crazy, I know, but there's something going on in there. I don't know what, but with Actor looking so much like those paintings . . . I just don't know."

"We're goin back, aint we, Warden?" Chief asked, knowing the answer before he even uttered the words.

Goniff and Casino looked at Garrison, "we are, right, Warden? Actor, 'e wouldn't just walk away and leave one of us, you know that," Goniff chimed up anxiously.

"He's right. Beautiful may be a pain in the ass, but he's our pain in the ass. If he's there, still alive, let's go get him!" came from Casino, and Garrison shook his head at these men, the ones he'd been told would never become a team, could never be trusted.

His voice was a little husky, "yeah, let's go get him!"

It had been surprisingly easy, slipping back through that kitchen door. Oh, the cook had caught them, but her keen eyes took in their determination, and she just nodded as if in approval, and jerked her head telling them to go do whatever it was they had come to do.

One of those hidden doors Casino had located earlier led to the caverns below, and there they found Actor, a little worse for wear for the solid thump on his head that had originally knocked him unconscious, plus the intervening time with no food or water. They found coffins there, as well. One contained the remains of the latest Count Racelascu; they'd hurried to slam the coffin shut once they'd checked. Though reputedly a handsome man before, being dead for a few months had not improved his overall appearance.

Anthony Masters they'd discovered in the study, deep in conversation with a man that looked enough similar to those paintings to perhaps be a relative, though nowhere as much as Actor did. This man, though, was German, or at least that was the language that exploded out of his mouth when they were confronted. 

The story was odd, of course. Well, how could it have been otherwise? Anthony Masters was an opportunist; he'd come here as a secretary, become a valued friend and confident of Radu Racelascu. When the man had sickened and died, and Masters swore that had been a natural death, Masters had thought of the opportunity that presented; after all, he knew the estate inside and out, handled the financial affairs of the Count, could copy his signature perfectly. He'd gone on like that for some time, living much as he had before, perhaps better, draining off some of the capital and guiding it into an account in Switzerland, putting it about that the Count had left for an indefinite visit elsewhere.

However, the Germans had come, had wanted to claim this land, and since they were very willing to pay Masters to assist them in achieving that goal, he had no objections; he knew there was only so long he could pull off this little con. The problem was, the Germans made it clear they needed a LIVE and quite visible Count, one who openly showed his warm welcome and acceptance of the Germans. They had brought him the man in the study; he would be brought in as the heir to the so unfortunately recently deceased Count Radu.

The problem was, for the succession to be accepted, there had to BE a recently deceased Count Radu Racelascu. He was sure the Germans would not be happy if he couldn't produce one, and the decaying body in the coffin down below would hardly suffice. He had no choice but to come up with a reasonable substitute, and was almost at his wits end when Actor and the team walked into his hands. It was like a dream come true, and he pounced on the opportunity. 

"So alright, we got Beautiful back," Casino grunted, slapping the tall Italian on the back, getting an indignant exclamation in return. "So, whatta we do about those guys? Masters and that German "Look at me, I'm gonna be a Count"?"

Garrison ran his fingers through his blond hair. "I haven't figured that out yet. There really aren't any authorities to turn them over to. And Masters said the Count's death was natural; he just took advantage of it, didn't report it. Of course, he made himself free of the perks, did some forgery, a lot else, but I don't know the laws around here. He kidnapped Actor, but Actor was impersonating someone else, and I don't want to draw anyone's attention to our ever being here. Yet, they can't just be let go. And the people here, at the castle, the village, they depend on the Count, his being in charge. I don't know what will become of the area without one here."

A low, rich voice came from behind them, "ah, do not trouble yourself about the castle, the village. I will see to them. I have before, I will do so again. Perhaps another of my line will make his way here in time, and then I will hand over the responsibility and take my rest once more. But in the meantime . . . and the aristocratic face bore a regal look similar to, but not quite the same, as Actor's. More like the face on one of those earlier paintings in the long gallery, the ones that had a certain feral intensity.

Garrison looked at the man carefully, glanced over to see Actor and the others doing the same.

"And those two?"

And the man in front of them smiled, his uncomfortably sharp canines glinting white. "I believe you can trust me to take proper care of them as well. I do have some experience in that line. But for now, I think you and your men should be going on your way. I am sure you have more important things to do, similar perhaps to what you accomplished against those intruders in the next valley? You have my best wishes with that. You do your part, I will do my humble part, perhaps they will decide the game is no longer worth the playing. Go. Don't worry, you can trust me. Oh, and do stop in the kitchen for some food to take with you. Mother likes you, she tells me, especially the small blue-eyed one; she will be glad to see that you are provisioned.

And they went. They went, quickly, quietly and they didn't look back.

**Author's Note:**

> When I told a friend just a tiny bit about this story, actually just its setting, she remarked on a role Cesare Danova played on 'Twilight Zone' taking place in a similar locale during the War, fighting his own battle against the Nazi invaders. While I was never a follower of 'Twilight Zone' and cannot recall ever having seen the episode, truly cannot remember Cesare Danova in any roles other than Garrison's Gorillas, I can certainly see him in the part. I WAS re-reading Bram Stoker last week, and the illustration on the front caused me to think of Actor - tall, dark, aristocratic. So, perhaps this could be considered a rift on a theme, or perhaps a 'pre-quel' to that Twilight Zone episode. And when you think it all started with one line coming to my mind, "I aint jumpin outta no ruddy airplane into ruddy Transylvania!", not to mention the fact that the story was intended to be a very short comic piece, well . . . And I never even got to use that one line!


End file.
